there's only three things that for sure
by Redonkgirl99
Summary: "I don't think my parents had that impact on my relationships the way other people's do." "That's not a bad thing," Claire said "Looking for your parents in your partner can be unhealthy." "I know," Alexander replied "But I didn't say my type wasn't being messed with." "What are you saying?" "I might've gone and got mixed up with someone like my brother." Steve Rogers/Cage!OC


"You know that whole idea that people get with someone that reminds them of their parents?"

Claire hummed thoughtfully as she continued to pack up her first aid kit. For the first time in a long while, she'd had to use this thing for something that didn't terrify her; no bullet-proof skin piercing bullets, no body sliced up by an immortal assassin, not even a deep katana cut to the stomach. Just a moment of distraction while doing the dishes that resulted in an unfortunate accident. Didn't even need stitches.

"Yeah, I know what you're talking about," she said simply, mulling over all of the relationships she'd come across in her life "Makes sense that some people get into relationships with partners like their parents, though; they're one of the biggest parts of shaping who we are. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you know how I feel about my parents. My Dad and I don't exactly get along and even though Mama was an angel, I…"

Claire watched as those pretty brown eyes unfocused the tiniest bit, but before he could fall any farther into whatever had consumed him, she reached out and grabbed his uninjured hand; a quick squeeze and a gentle smile was all it took to pull him back from wherever he had been drifting.

"… Anyway," he continued after a moment, his voice quieter now "All this to say that I don't think my parents had that big impact on my relationships the way other people's parents do."

"That's not a bad thing," Claire pointed out, knowing that he would follow her as she returned the bag to bathroom "Looking for your parents in your partner can be very unhealthy depending on your relationship with either."

"I know," he replied before sighing "But I didn't say my type wasn't being messed with, I just said it wasn't by my parents."

"What _are_ you saying?" Claire asked, her brow furrowing as he dropped his eyes to his shoes. Whatever this was clearly filled him with some type of shame—or maybe just sheepishness?— but before she could truly prod at whatever that was, he was looking up at her through his lashes and answering her question in a small voice.

"I might've gone and got mixed up with someone like my brother."

.

He'd come into Claire's life relatively recently, but given the situation and who the twenty-five year old was, she found that he had wormed his way into her heart within days of knowing him.

She wasn't going to lie, she'd been _quite_ suspicious the first time she'd met him. How could she not? D.W. had just said that there was someone waiting in the back of the barbershop for them and was unable to give them any more information on this mysterious newcomer (why he'd let him in, Claire had no idea; that boy had no sense). She'd half expected to see some crime boss or their liaison, but she'd known that this was different from the first moment he'd come into view.

It wasn't just because he was an unintimidating looking kid, one who sat quietly on the couch with his dreads pulled back out of his face so he could clearly see how his pencil marked the notebook in his hands. No, it wasn't his appearance or his fashionable, but obviously thrifted clothing; it was the look on the face of the man that stood next to her and the single word that left his mouth.

"Alexander?"

His head had snapped up and Claire had finally been able to clearly see the face of the young man that her boyfriend had recognized on sight. He was a handsome kid, no doubt about that; big brown eyes only enlarged by the thick rim glasses that surrounded them and a really nice facial structure that complimented his deep umber skin tone. But, that wasn't what her mind focused on. No, instead of appreciating his appearance, she found herself wondering why it made her feel so funny to look at him. Why there was something ever so slightly unsettling about this guy.

But, that question was answered before she could even ask it.

"Carl."

It seemed that Diamondback wasn't the only brother Luke Cage had out there.

Later, after Luke and Alexander had their private conversation and he and Claire where alone, he'd given her the full explanation (although, she probably would've been able to guess it if she had to).

Alexander was his younger brother. _Much_ younger in fact, as he had apparently just finished college. But, unlike his other brother, Luke had been aware of his existence from the moment he was in utero; he may be significantly younger, but they shared the same parents.

Luke hadn't sugar-coated the rest; he and Alexander had never been close. The age difference was only one of many issues that made it difficult for them to connect. You see, while Luke was running around and playing with friends, Alexander sat in the corner with his head buried in a coloring book. There hadn't been any animosity between the two (at least, according to Luke), they were just different people with different interests.

But, none of that mattered, because they hadn't seen one another since Luke had gone to Seagate. Maybe it was shame, maybe it was just the unfortunate consequence of not being close, but most likely it was their father. Claire was aware of how he'd kept Luke's mother from visiting, had _blamed_ Luke for his mother's death; it wasn't a stretch to imagine him preventing his youngest son from seeing his brother.

But, the reason didn't really matter, as the outcome was the same; it had been years since the two had seen each other. It had been so long, in fact, that Luke's memories of Alexander were that of a quiet child—young teenager at most—who paid little interest to the goings on that surrounded him. Head in the clouds, many of the ladies of the congregation would say, and it seemed that Luke was inclined to agree.

But, things had changed.

That child was now a young man. That coloring book was replaced with easels and sketchbooks and instead of the back corner of a church, it was NYU (full scholarship, Luke had said; Claire detecting a hint of pride). At least, NYU _had_ been his stomping ground, up until he graduated a little over a year ago. But, it seemed Alexander had elected to continue his time in New York, only in a Harlem apartment with four roommates instead of a dorm with one, and as a fulltime Barista instead of student.

Claire didn't press for the specifics on the words exchanged, but she could tell that whatever Alexander had said impacted Luke in some way. That whatever had been said had rocked Luke more than he was admitting. That suspicion was only confirmed a day later, when she joined the two men for lunch and heard the exact intentions of Alexander in his voice, if not the words he spoke.

He just wanted to reconnect.

He didn't want anything from Luke; no money, no fame by proxy, he _just_ wanted to have something with his long lost brother. That was the moment Claire first found herself getting attached to Alexander and that only increased the more time she spent with him.

The child that Luke remembered was still evident in the man, but it all seemed to suit the adult more than it ever could someone young. He was still quiet, although it was clear that at some point he'd been coaxed out of his shell enough to make him a good conversationalist, and his interest in coloring had developed into art unlike anything Claire had ever seen. The third day she'd spent time with him (the three of them sitting at Pop's, Alexander relaxing in a barber chair with his legs thrown over the side), he'd gone quiet all of the sudden and pulled out his notebook; a few bold strokes and scribbles in under a minute and he ripped out the page before handing it to her.

"It's not my best," he'd said sheepishly as Claire took in the sketch of her sipping from her disposable cup of coffee "I just thought you looked nice and decided to give it a shot."

That was the moment that Claire knew there was no going back; she'd take a bullet for this kid.

She liked to think that attachment was mutual, and it sure seemed like it; the two of them had discussions that went on for hours at a time (sometimes to Luke's delight, sometimes to his irritation) and he clearly had taken a liking to her early on. And, maybe that was why a part of her felt a little surprised when Alexander had said those words about getting wrapped up in someone like his brother.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd met someone?" Claire asked, her head tipping as her voice took a playful air in an attempt to keep her real curiosity out of the question. But, her attempt at lightening the mood seemed to do nothing for Alexander as he shrugged his shoulders listlessly before answering.

"I thought maybe we were just gonna be friends," he replied "I didn't even realize he…"

Ah.

That was the crux of the issue.

You see, when Alexander had handed her that first sketch, Luke had made his normal attempt at humor that was more corny than anything else.

"Hope you're not putting the moves on my girl, Alex; I'm even tougher than I was when we were kids."

And Alexander, the sweet kid, had laughed just a _little_ too hard at that.

At first, Claire had entertained the possibility that Luke had been right and Alexander _had_ been hitting on her. But, no, it was easy to see that all he considered her as was a close friend, nothing more. Even when they met, there hadn't been even a second of interest the way there is most of the time when she met men.

That's when her suspicion had started.

It only took two more weeks of observing Alexander's behaviors around others to confirm it in her mind and it only took them running into a friend from NYU who was definitely _not_ a just a friend for him to admit it to her. But, when he did he asked for her to keep it to herself and, although she agreed without condition, she couldn't help but ask why. When he answered, Claire felt something ache in her chest at not only his words, but the way those big brown eyes of his displayed his emotions for all to see.

"Our father was a preacher, Claire."

She knew that Luke would accept Alexander no matter what, but if he needed time to come to terms with all of it—to understand that everything about him was perfect—then she'd take this secret to the grave.

But, it seemed that whatever demons plagued him had subsided enough that he found someone.

"He is interested, though?" Claire prodded slightly, Alexander nodding before smiling in a way that made her send a million thanks to whoever was causing it.

"We went to The Met on Saturday," he said, his sheepish expression paired with a hint of dreaminess that accompanied the very beginning of the Honeymoon phase "And then I—."

Alexander cut himself short and it took one look at his changed expression for Claire to understand where he was going with that. A large grin took over her own face as she placed her hands on her hips and replied.

 _"Well,_ Mr. Lucas," she crowed, Alexander's cheeks burning as he dropped his eyes to his shoes, although his smile never disappeared "You had _quite_ the Saturday night, didn't you?"

"I mean," he murmured before looking up at her with a toothy grin "It was a pretty good Sunday morning too."

Claire couldn't help the laughter that escaped her at that, but before she could make any comment on it, the pleased expression that adorned Alexander's face disappeared as a large shadow was cast on both of them.

"What's up?" Luke asked, Claire turning around to face her boyfriend with a more neutral look on her face than the one she was wearing before.

"Alexander was just telling me a funny story," she lied easily before she turned her eyes to the phone in Luke's hand "Everything alright?"

"I gotta go," he said apologetically, Claire sighing slightly.

"Harlem never sleeps," she replied, forcing a small smile on her lips to at least give Luke peace of mind before he left to take care of whatever was going wrong yet again.

"I'll walk out with you," Alexander spoke up, pulling the attention back to him "It's getting late; I've got work in the morning."

With two quick kisses given to Claire (one on the lips and the other on the cheek, of course), the pair of ex-estranged brothers headed out; the woman who knew more than they ever would watching them go and only able to sigh in both indulgence and concern once the door was shut behind them.

.

"How long's your shift tomorrow?"

The silence that had preceded that sentence made it so when he did speak, the sudden sound actually made Alexander jump. Luke's lips curled at that slightly, but he didn't comment on it; they weren't quite _there_ yet.

"Uh, five am to one," he managed after a moment, Luke giving a low whistle at that.

"Damn," he said "Not gonna lie, that sounds rough."

"Well, not all of us can make a living off of throwing gangsters through brick walls," Alexander replied promptly, a teasing curve to his words that caused Luke to look down to see how his brother was smiling slightly.

"Have you _seen_ where Claire and I live?" He asked, Alexander actually laughing out loud at that "Hate to break it to you, I'm not making a living off of that either."

"Well, if you ever need to move out of Claire's mom's couch, I know my manager thinks we're understaffed," he teased right back, now the one to make his brother laugh.

"Luke Cage: Harlem's Barista."

Both of them shared a hearty chuckle at that, but as they stepped out of the apartment complex and into the cool air of New York in September, the mood shifted. Luke zipped up his hoodie and Alexander sighed as his eyes took in the orange glow of the streetlamps that just barely illuminated the sidewalk; any time spent as brothers soon became this. Luke Cage, Harlem's Hero, and Alexander Lucas, Georgia preacher's artist (and closeted) son.

"Want me to walk with you?" Luke asked, his voice no longer the conversational one he'd had just moments before, but the one he used when he worked.

"Nah," Alexander said, trying to keep it light "It's not that far. I'll see you later."

"See you," Luke said with a nod, the two men turning to go their separate ways down the street. But, before he could get very far, Alexander found himself stopping and swinging back around.

"Hey, Luke!" He called, his brother turning to face him. For a moment it was quiet as Alexander tried to find it in himself to say what he knew needed to be said, but what came out his mouth weren't the words he'd been praying for. Although, they weren't exactly the wrong ones "Be safe."

Luke gave him a small nod before the two turned back the way they were headed; Luke slightly pleased that his brother had made it painfully obvious he cared about him, while all Alexander could do was curse softly at himself for being too weak to do what was necessary.

.

"What makes him like Luke?"

Claire watched as a moment of panic flashed across Alexander's face before he seemed to remind himself that it was just him and her walking down the street; that he didn't need to hide in front of her. Once that initial fear disappeared, it was replaced with a dreamy expression only impeded by the bashfulness that accompanied it. That second one, Claire decided, was much better than the first.

"I don't know," Alexander said with a shrug "He just… really cares about people, you know? Noble, _too_ noble sometimes. He wants to do the right thing all of the time and because of that he can be a little…"

"Stupid?" Claire offered with her coffee cup to her lips, both chuckling softly.

"I was going to say reckless," Alexander replied "But, yours isn't _wrong."_

"What about art?" Claire asked, thinking of the things that would be necessary for Alexander to be truly happy in a relationship "Does he like it?"

"He does it too," Alexander said, his smile getting brighter and brighter as he was reminded of the great things about this man "He didn't go to school or nothing, but he does sketches. He's pretty good! Actually, that's how we first met. I was, um, at a park and I saw him sitting on the bench across from me so I decided to draw him and then when I was finishing up on it he suddenly came over to me. I'm not gonna lie, I thought he was gonna kick my ass, but then he showed me that he'd actually been drawing me the entire time too."

For a moment it was quiet as the tale truly sank in.

"That's…" Claire looked at Alexander with an open expression as she searched for the words that could truly describe the story he had just told her "That is _fucking adorable."_

Alexander burst into laughter and although Claire chuckled with him, she continued to wear the awestruck expression of a woman who just heard a real life romcom meet-cute.

"Do you have the drawing you did of him?" she finally asked once Alexander's amusement had died down, but he shook his head no to her question.

"I gave it to him," he explained "And he gave me the one he did. He, uh, actually wrote his number on the back."

"Jesus _Christ,"_ Claire muttered, shaking her head at it all "You're going to give me a fucking cavity, Alex."

And, although he rolled his eyes, his sunny expression never disappeared and Claire couldn't help but notice the extra pep in his step as they continued to make their way down the street.

But, as they shined in the warm afternoon sun, she made the mistake that she never thought she would. Not after everything she'd been through.

Claire forgot what writhed under the streets of Harlem.

.

He didn't ask what was going on.

Claire could see in Alexander's eyes he had questions, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead of speaking, he quickly observed the room around them; the room that they had been led to by men who left no space to argue. A part of her wanted to reach out and take his hand or something to help ease the tension in his frame, but the sharp eyes of the men around her kept her from making any movements beyond breathing. Besides, what good could her touch do him right now, when fear was clear in every muscle and vein of her own body?

"I'm afraid we haven't been introduced," their captor said cordially, despite the fact the men that surrounded them quite clearly stood at the ready to draw their weapons "My name is Mariah Dillard."

"I know who you are," Alexander replied with a lower voice, taking her hand nonetheless and giving it a polite shake.

"And we know who you are," Mariah said, her voice still genial but the underlying threat not going unnoticed "I'm starting to wonder how many brother's Luke has!"

Claire had a sudden vision of the woman in front of saying these words at a benefit or a press conference and she wondered who exactly Mariah was campaigning for.

"Although, I already like you better than the other one, probably both," Mariah said while smiling like they were old friends "I've always had a deep appreciation for the arts and I have to admire you with your full scholarship at NYU."

Alexander and Claire exchanged a quick look. They shouldn't be surprised that Mariah had done her research, but there was something incredibly unsettling about this woman knowing that information.

"What do you think?" Mariah asked, making no mention of their response as she crossed the room to draw their attention to what hung on the wall. Alexander cleared his throat and blinked a few times, clearly trying to get his brain to work in this stressful situation, before he spoke.

"Basquiat," he said, his voice a little weaker than he probably wanted "It's a Basquiat, right?"

"Putting that degree to good use, Mr. Lucas," Mariah said before turning to the painting to fully admire it "It's a family heirloom. It's my family's legacy."

"Mariah, why are we here?" Claire demanded, unable to hold her tongue any longer. When the former-councilwoman turned to them again, her eyes were no longer alight with pride. No, they had returned to their natural state; the coldness of a kingpin.

"I need to speak with Luke," she said simply, her voice flat "I don't think he'd answer if I called."

"You're probably right." Anger permeating every word that Claire spoke, although it was unclear if that was because of who she spat them at or because of the man who sat beside her. The man she never wanted mixed up in all of this.

 _You make me crazy, you make me wild  
Just like a baby, spin me 'round like a child_

Blood rushed to Alexander's face as everyone looked at him when the soft croon began to play from his pocket. The moment of stillness the sudden sound had caused was soon broken by one of Mariah's men—Comanche, Claire recalled—stepping forward with his hand outstretched.

"It's not Luke," Alexander said, handing over his phone over nonetheless. Comanche looked down at the screen and his brow furrowed slightly as he took in the caller I.D.

"Who's Trouble Man, then?"

If it was possible, Alexander became even more uncomfortable and he sunk further into the upholstered couch before he answered, his voice a fast mumble

"… myboyfriend…"

 _Your skin so golden brown  
Be young, be dope, be proud_

"Your ringtone for your boyfriend is _Lana Del Rey?"_ Comanche asked incredulously, the small smile playing on his lips cluing everyone in to the fact he was more amused than anything else.

"Well, you _recognized_ her," Alexander replied before he could stop himself, the low titters from the room around him the only thing keeping him from freaking out at his own abrasive words. On Comanche's part, he turned from entertained to caught out almost immediately and he grumbled as he declined the call.

 _Like an—_

Within the few seconds it took for Comanche to pass the phone to Shades and walk out of the room with his shoulders slumped, it vibrated; alerting everyone to the fact that calling was not the only way he was trying to get into contact with Alexander.

"He's asking where he is," Shades said simply, Mariah turning her eyes to the young man who still squirmed uneasily.

"He was going to pick me up after my shift," he murmured "We had a date."

"Well, with any luck, you'll still be able to make it," Mariah said simply before the door behind Claire and Alexander opened and her eyes lit up "Ah, so nice of you to join us."

Luke stalked in with a stern expression that was clearly holding back barely contained rage. Claire vaguely noticed how Alexander disappeared into the couch cushions even more, but she didn't acknowledge it; her mind far too full of all the ways this could go wrong if her boyfriend couldn't keep his cool.

"What the hell is the meaning of this, Mariah?" Luke demanded, outrage in every syllable.

"I needed to speak with you," Mariah said simply, as if there was nothing odd about this way of getting connected.

"So you resorted to kidnapping people?" Luke all but exploded "You've really committed to being a shameless gangster."

"Please," Mariah scoffed "Shame is just something people in power use to keep the rest of us down. Now, are we going to act like adults or are we going to do this the hard way?"

For a moment, Luke's eyes blazed and Claire could see the answer he wanted to give. But, he sent a quick glance to the two people sitting to his left and when his eyes returned to Mariah, it had been extinguished.

"Just let them go home, Mariah," He said, still strong, but tired as well now "I'll talk then."

"I think it's in all of our best interests if you're _girl_ and _brother_ remain," Mariah said, putting significant amounts of contempt on those two words. Enough to keep everyone's attention on her— they all wondered if that disdain would evolve into something much worse and much more dangerous—and off the sound of the door reopening.

"They have nothing to do with this," Luke replied, gaining some of that fire back but clearly trying to hold it in lest it set off his advisory.

"Oh, _please,_ they've been a part of this the moment you decided to try and take on me," Mariah said, gaining steam nevertheless "You could've stayed out of my business, but now you've dragged—."

 _"What?!"_

Mariah's rant was cut short by the sudden exclamation by the usually cool and collected Shades, who was looking at Comanche like he'd grown another head. The man who had delivered the information didn't seem to be doing much better, as his eyes were wide and filled with complete confusion, as if even _he_ couldn't believe what he was saying. Mariah's eyes darted between the pair of them with irritation plain on her expression, but when neither of them acknowledged her, she spoke.

"Something you want to share?" She asked, but unlike every other time she'd used that tone of voice, the two men did not wake out of whatever stupor they were in and pay her the respect she expected. Instead, Shades looked at her (which allowed her to see exactly how much whatever Comanche had said had rocked him) before he turned back to his partner.

"Well, let him in," he finally said, Comanche nodding and heading back towards the door; Mariah's exasperation only seeming to increase as she took a few steps towards her sort-of-boyfriend/complete-lackey.

"There better be a good reason behind this, _Hernan,"_ she said, her voice acidic "Because if there isn't, I'm going to—."

The door flung open before Mariah could finish her threat, but even in the silence that followed she said nothing. Just like Comanche and Shades, the shock of what was happening punched her in the stomach and she'd been rendered completely speechless.

But, maybe it wasn't just shock, as this new figure loomed over her with a glare that could kill a weaker person. He was _angry;_ angry in a way that most people never saw and even less experienced. His jaw and fists were clenched equally tight as he didn't even attempt to hide the fire (so, _so_ like Luke's) that blazed inside of him and instead seemed to cultivate it; this man knew the power he possessed just by walking into a room and he wasn't afraid to use it. He knew that it wasn't just his strong aura that did the talking, but the reputation that far, _far_ preceded him. A reputation that, in this moment, seemed to be proven true in the most daunting way possible. It didn't even matter that he wore a plain blue jacket and carried no visible defense, it was him, in all his glory.

Captain America.

No one said anything. What _could_ they say? Captain _fucking_ America was here, what were they supposed to say to that? Even if they could, that is, as everyone was as flabbergasted as Mariah. Everybody had lost their voice.

Well, everybody except one.

The man that had been meek not moments ago had stretched out in his seat slightly; the only one not negatively impacted by the newcomer. He wasn't _relaxed_ per se, but he was no longer gripped by the fear of the situation. It was as if he knew he was safe now and that he had nothing to worry about. Which would explain the tinge of confidence in his voice when he spoke; his words answering the unasked question that every other person in the room had.

"Hi, Trouble Man."

For a fraction of a second, something softened in Captain America's face, but that disappeared as quickly as it had happened and his voice was stern when he spoke, even though everyone now knew he didn't intend for it to be that way towards the person he spoke to.

"You alright, Alex?"

"I'm okay," Alexander mumbled in response, _Captain America_ looking back for a moment to make eye contact before he seemed to find the confirmation he needed and turned back to Mariah with his glare somehow stronger.

"Good," he said, and it was clear he meant that it was good for more than just him. It was quiet for one more moment (although, now it was starting to seem like he was purposefully letting it ride) before he spoke again and revealed that the tone he had used for Alex had been _softer_ than what he was currently inclined towards. Revealed that the fire inside him could only be matched by the ice in his voice.

"I don't think I have to explain how I felt when I found out that the man I care very much about was taken from his work by two know criminals," he said simply before continuing on "And I'm not going to go into details on how I found him here, just realize that I _did._ And I did it under ten minutes. So, I would take what I'm about to say very seriously if I were you. Leave Alexander out of this. If you don't, and you insist on making this his business, it will become _mine_."

For a moment, it was quiet as it all sank in, but despite the current situation and the person who had created it, the snake found her silver tongue and Mariah's expression altered from shocked into the same cordiality she'd worn when speaking to Alexander.

"Now, Captain, are we really going to be making _threats_ right now?" She asked, walking so she stood behind her desk "We all know that's not your style. And, besides, you're not exactly in the position to be trying to leverage anything."

It was quiet again, but all it took was the slightest quirk of an eyebrow for Mariah to elaborate.

"You did just admit some _very_ interesting things about you and Alexander." And all at once, all that fake geniality melted away into the harsh reality "What do you think the tabloids would think of America's golden boy running down to Harlem for some young ass?"

Those bitter words shouldn't have been shocking, but there was still a sudden sting in everyone's chest at them; no one was ever prepared for that type of vitriol, not really. Alexander seemed to retreat back into both the shell he'd hidden in as a child and the expensive pillows he sat on with an indescribable look on his face, as if he was trying to put himself mentally anywhere other than here. But, what had caused the young man on the couch to pull away seemed to have the opposite effect on the man in front of Mariah; Captain America standing impossibly taller with that same crushing glare, but now his chin tipped up in an almost petulant way. A pose that didn't quite suit the large man that seemed to take up more than his fair share of the room, but instead would be fitting on someone who had something to prove.

"You should pick up a history book, Ms. Dillard, and maybe look at my Wikipedia page—such a useful site," he said, biting sarcasm on his last words that no one could've predicted falling from Captain America's lips "That style of mine, the one you say keeps me from making threats? It isn't real. It's as fake as those newsreels. What is real is this: I fought in World War II, I fought in the Battle of New York, I fought HYDRA when they infiltrated SHIELD, and every time I've gone against the US government to do it, and every time I've come out on top."

For a moment, it was quiet before Captain America took a step forward with a sharp look in his eyes; it suddenly becoming clear where that defiant pose had come from. It wasn't Captain America—the 1940s' perfect soldier— who was standing here making threats towards the most prominent mobster in the city, but Steve Rogers—a punk kid from Brooklyn who hated bullies, and it didn't matter where they came from.

"So ask yourself," Steve Rogers said "What makes you so fucking special?"

This time, it was clear that nothing but silence could follow that.

"Come on, Alex."

He turned and walked over to the young man who all but jumped out of his seat, and he placed a hand on his lower back as they headed towards the exit. But, before he left, Steve paused with his hand still holding the door open.

"When you look at the history books, you'll notice something else; I've never hidden, not even in the 40s."

With that, the door slammed shut behind him, and the breath everyone held released. But, no one said anything and for a brief moment, there was a feeling of camaraderie between the criminals and the heroes. But, that passed and before anything more could develop, Luke grabbed Claire's hand and quickly pulled her out of the room; the pair undoubtedly taking the same path that Alexander and Captain America had not moments ago.

"What the _hell?"_ Luke hissed, looking down at Claire with wild but lost eyes, however she didn't say anything. She didn't explain what was going on or how much she knew and instead she tried to reconcile what had just happened with the past few weeks' worth of scattered information from Alexander.

Now that she knew, of course, it fit together like a puzzle piece. The morality, the responsibility, the brute _strength,_ Luke shared those traits with the famed Avenger, no doubt about it.

But, there was a part of her that felt that wasn't quite right; that wasn't what Alexander had been talking about when he said he'd gotten with someone like his brother. She sensed it in both of them in that room; Luke when he'd first walked in (before the cards were shown to be stacked against him) and Captain America throughout. That fire that raged in both as they loomed over the people who were trying to hurt the people they cared about, the people who were just trying to _hurt._ She didn't know how to define it, but no sooner had she thought that did she realize that she didn't have to; Alexander had already described both Luke Cage and Steve Rogers perfectly.

Claire looked up at her boyfriend before answering honestly.

"Alexander might've gone and got mixed up with a Trouble Man."


End file.
